


Starry Nights

by lordelannette



Series: Smile for the Camera [2]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bucky's Mortal Enemy is Public Bathrooms, Camping, Life Changes, M/M, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Rich Bucky, Starting College Soon!, Top Steve Rogers, outdoors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:01:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25894081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lordelannette/pseuds/lordelannette
Summary: Summer's ending and with it, life is bringing forth some big changes.But, before they all say goodbye to the lives they've known for the past eighteen years, Steve, Bucky, and the others decide to take a camping trip to cherish the last few weeks they have of being all together.Naturally, shenanigans ensue.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Smile for the Camera [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1566838
Comments: 26
Kudos: 148





	Starry Nights

**Author's Note:**

> Bet NONE of you were expecting this! I've had this sequel marinating all summer long and I think now is the time for it to be brought to life :)
> 
> It's nowhere near the length of its predecessor but it's short and sweet (i hope).

“Are you sure we can’t just get an RV?”

Steve pauses, pulls his attention away from the tents on display, and looks toward Bucky-- his beautiful, stubborn,  _ patience-testing  _ boyfriend who stands at Steve’s side with his arms crossed against his chest and a look of exaggerated disdain on his face. 

God, he loves that face. He would do anything for that face.  _ Well-- _

“No, we can’t,” Steve says. He’s said that word at least a hundred times in the last hour and odds are, he’s not gonna stop any time soon. Because like Steve found out  _ long  _ ago, even before their Senior retreat a few months back, if Bucky can avoid going outdoors, or doing anything extraneous in general, he damn as hell will hop on that opportunity. 

So naturally, Bucky has been resistant toward this camping trip but over the past few days Steve has slowly been easing him into it. Bucky went from _ ‘ugh, why can’t we do something else?’ _ to ‘ _ it’ll be fun, I guess’, _ but then they walked through the automatic front doors of Cabela’s and instead of seeing a welcoming sign, it was a goddamn warning notice about heightened bear activity and to take arms when going camping outdoors. Bucky had spun around on his heel and would have hightailed it right the fuck out of there had it not been for Steve grabbing his elbow and pulling him toward the camping aisles instead. 

Since then, it’s been thirty  _ glorious  _ minutes of listening to Bucky try to talk him into agreeing that an RV would be their best bet. Earlier that morning George Barnes had put the idea into his son’s head that they might as well purchase one so that the family could use it in the future, right before he handed over his shiny metallic credit card and gave Bucky free reign. Because you know, buying a quarter of a million dollar RV seemed easier and more realistic than sleeping in a tent that, as Becca put it, was smaller than her shower. 

It’s safe to say that he’s still getting used to dealing with the whole rich boyfriend thing. Which is  _ also  _ why Steve absolutely refuses to break on some things, like foregoing an RV purchase because that’s just excessive and it’s not like camping’s ever killed anyone (... if you exclude the whole bear thing. And maybe getting lost. And falling to your death or running out of supplies. And probably a whole list of things that Steve does  _ not  _ want to think of).

But that’s not the point. The point is that just as Steve is growing his own mindset, Bucky-- bless his beautiful, upscale soul-- gets to expand on his as well. It’s all about reciprocity with them. Always has been. 

Sometimes Bucky just needs a little reminder of that. 

“We’re supposed to be roughing it, remember?” he says, pointedly, before pulling Bucky’s back against his front and pressing a kiss against Bucky’s temple. “So we’re gonna get a tent and then we’re gonna  _ enjoy  _ it in the woods.”

Bucky leans his head back against Steve’s shoulder, and while Steve doesn’t see it, he knows that Bucky totally rolled his eyes. “Oh, I  _ plan  _ on enjoying it,” Bucky mutters. “I plan on enjoying it  _ alot  _ but that doesn’t mean I want to risk my life in the middle of the woods--”

“It’s a campground, sweetheart.”

“With no electricity or bathrooms or y’know, any type of protection to stop a goddamn wild animal.”

“ _ First _ ,” Steve emphasises with a kiss to Bucky’s jaw, “there’s public campsite bathrooms.” He moves to kiss the other side of Bucky’s face. “ _ Second _ , we’re here to get a portable power station for your precious technology that will be absolutely useless out there. And  _ third _ ,” he leans in to whisper against Bucky’s ear, letting his voice go deep and gravelly in the way that always makes Bucky shiver, “you‘ll have me.” 

Bucky snorts before he spins out of Steve’s hold, moving to stand in front. He reaches his hands out and settles them right on Steve’s collarbones, shaking his head slowly. “Do you really think trying to seduce me into risking my life is gonna work,  _ Steven _ ?”

Steve’s eyebrows go up at the use of his first name, grinning. “I don’t know,  _ James _ , it’s worked before.” 

This time Steve sees when Bucky rolls his eyes. “Only like, three or four times. Five at max. Besides, this is different. It’s not like a goddamn bear is gonna pop up in the backseat while I give you a blow job.” Then, Bucky straightens up and turns serious, like he’s just remembered something incredibly important. “Did you know that the largest black bear ever found weighed eleven hundred pounds? Do you know how fucking big that is?”

Steve huffs, not being able to resist the smile playing at his lips. “Did you google that on the ride here?”

“ _ Nooo _ ,” Bucky drags out the word. “I googled it last night.”

“And did they find it where we’re going?”

The worry on Bucky’s face falls away and his head tilts, before he shakes it. “Well, no…”

“Then you don’t need to worry about it,” Steve points out, praying that his skewed logic will stick just enough to reassure Bucky. It’s not like he’s going to admit to Bucky that he took a previous trip with Sam and Clint, and they all bought bear spray and a few other protective items. Just  _ mentioning  _ them to Bucky would send him nose diving into a panic attack and then another speech about the benefits of an RV. ( _ ‘Air conditioning, Stevie!’) _

Bucky’s arms wrap around Steve’s waist and he leans in close, peering up. “Oh, it’s that easy?” 

“It can be, if you make it.” 

Bucky’s eyes narrow. His mouth opens like he wants to argue some more, but then he closes it, then opens it again until settling on a groan instead. “ _ God _ ,” he hangs his head. “You’re so lucky that outdoor sex is on my bucket list.” 

Steve snorts. “What about that time in the hot tub?” 

“My backyard does not count as the outdoors.” 

If Steve’s logic can be a little off, then he guesses Bucky’s can too. 

“Well we gotta go check that off your bucket list, don’t we baby?” Steve leans forward and nips the tip of his nose. When he pulls back, his hands grab both of Bucky’s upper arms and turn him around to face the tent displays. “Now quit your moaning and help me pick out a tent.”

“But you like my moaning,” Bucky pouts.

“Bucky.”

Bucky huffs again but he at least looks up at the display of tents. Steve moves to stand beside him and his eyes scour over the options. Who would have ever known that tents were such a big deal? And did colors matter? What about the fabric or the insulation or--

Steve’s train of thought is cut off as Bucky points to one. Steve looks at it, checks the description next to it, and frowns. “That one says it fits five people. Last I checked, it’ll only be us inside.”.

“I sure as hell hope it’s just us,” Bucky snickers. “It’ll be awkward as shit when you fuck me and our friends have to watch.” 

Steve rolls his eyes, pretending he didn’t hear that even though Bucky is abso-fucking-lutely right. “It’s still too big.”

“The air mattress will take up most of the room. Then we’ll need a bit of space for our bags and when we get dressed.” 

“ _ Or,”  _ Steve amends, “we could bypass the air mattress and just get really good sleeping bags instead.”

Rapidly, Bucky shakes his head. “No buts about the mattress, pal. I draw a fine line at laying on the floor.”

“Okay,” Steve agrees. Quick and easy, now onto the real matters at hand. “But we still need something a bit smaller. Let’s just get that one.” He nods his chin towards one in front of them; smaller, more sleek-looking. 

Bucky makes a face. “Jesus, Steve. Red and yellow?”

“Then which one?”

“Obviously the blue one. It matches your eyes.” Steve opens his mouth to say that’s not a reason why they should get it over all of the others but Bucky slides the tent bag off the shelf and heaves it into their basket. “ _ Next _ .” 

Steve knows how to choose his battles, and this isn’t one of them. Plus, the blue tent  _ is _ pretty and does, in fact, match his eyes. 

* * *

“I need to bounce on it.” 

Steve’s brain goes a little haywire at the comment but before he can actually process what Bucky’s referring to, or what his mind envisions, Bucky plops down on the air mattress in front of them. Bucky goes spread eagle, squirming into the cushions on top, before picking his head up to regard Steve. 

“I think you should join me,” Bucky says, dropping his head back down, his brown hair fanning around him. “It would probably be a good thing if you pretended to plow into me, too. Can’t have a loud mattress otherwise Sam is gonna flip his shit.  _ Again _ .” 

Looking down at Bucky, Steve has to swallow. His boyfriend is always a sight to see and laying out as he is is all the invitation that Steve would usually need to join the two together and get frisky but it’s not like he can do that now. They’re in a store, for christsakes, and going by the look that Bucky is sending his way, the little shit knows exactly what he’s doing and just how effectively he’s getting Steve’s pulse pounding. 

“I’m not gonna do that, Buck,” Steve answers back, his voice carefully controlled. Since when do stores put the heaters on during the summer? 

“Fine.” Bucky lets out an exaggerated sigh and Steve is already dreading the worst because when Bucky does that, it’s only seconds later when he really starts to act up. “I guess I’ll have to enjoy it myself then. All alone.” 

To Steve’s torment, or maybe his delight, Bucky picks himself up and moves onto his knees. Bucky sends a quick look all around them then yep, like Steve knew he would, Bucky starts to bounce. Steve’s breathing goes a bit shallow seeing Bucky like that (because that up and down tantalizing movement is always for Steve’s eyes only when Bucky bounces on Steve’s dick) and when Bucky lets his palms skim down the mattress’s surface, Steve’s skin starts to feel the phantom touch. He gets goosebumps and he knows he has to be beat red, blushing like hell, and he sends a grateful ‘thank you’ that no one’s around. 

“It’s not making any loud noises, Bucky. You can stop now.” His voice sounds choked to hell and the smirk on Bucky’s face widens. 

“Why, Stevie?” Bucky tilts his head to the side but miraculously actually does stop his movements. He positions himself back onto his back, holding himself up with his elbows and pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. “You don’t wanna have any fun with me?”

God help him. God  _ fucking  _ help him. That look should be illegal in every state and country because it has him moving forward. He sends a quick glance around them but still, there’s no one. Steve sinks his knees down into the mattress and immediately Bucky’s legs open up to let him settle in. 

Bucky hums and his hands trail down Steve’s back, moving to rest on his ass. “Mmm, thought so.” The smile on Bucky’s face is breathtaking and instantly Steve’s kissing him senseless.

* * *

Two days later, Steve’s sitting in a quad chair sipping from a can of soda, watching as Bucky tries to assemble their tent. 

When they first arrived, less than an hour ago, Steve had automatically moved to set it up but then Sam had made a wise crack saying Bucky wouldn’t be able to do it by himself and Bucky being Bucky, refused to let Steve anywhere near their tent because he wanted to do it  _ alone _ . 

Now, twenty minutes after Bucky pulled all the parts out of the bag and dumped them in a mindless pile, he’s squinting down at the instruction manual. Steve hasn’t seen him this focused since he let Bucky drive the Jeep off road last month, when he wouldn’t even look at Steve in the passenger seat in fear of crashing into a tree or worse, off a cliff (even though Steve had told him over and over that there were no cliffs anywhere near them). 

Seeing Bucky concentrated is adorable, really, with the way his brows dip, how he chews on his lips, and slides his fingers through his hair when it falls into his eyes. The sight is rare in itself because it hardly ever happens that Bucky gets exposed to things that aren’t comfortable for him. So naturally, Steve eyes Bucky’s camera that’s resting peacefully beside him and he gently picks it up (this is Bucky’s baby, so of course he’s so goddamn gentle) before quietly snapping a few pictures. Bucky doesn’t notice now that he’s holding up the tent poles which are bending every which way. 

“How much longer are you gonna let him suffer?” Sam asks. 

Like Steve, Sam’s been chilling in his own quad chair, soaking in the tranquility of their environment, not minding the faint clanks of the poles from where Bucky stands and then the sharp hammering of Clint setting his tent nails in place. 

Steve checks his watch. It’s 10:43 in the morning, so Bucky’s been at it for almost thirty minutes. This has to be a record, honestly. 

“‘Bout ten more minutes until he’s calling for help.”

Sam snorts. “I take it he didn’t do Boy Scouts?”

Steve turns his head and gives Sam a look. Bucky. In Boy Scouts? Ha. Joke of the century. Steve knows damn well that Bucky would  _ not  _ have lasted being bossed around in the woods, let alone learning how to tie knots that didn’t revolve around hair styles. Steve can’t help but picture it though-- a young Bucky frowning down at his designer loafers getting muddy and crossing his arms and downright refusing to move until someone carried him away.  _ God _ , he loves that boy. 

Sam only chuckles. “What? It was a valid question!” 

“Right. And I’m straight.” 

“You haven’t been straight since you first landed those pretty blue eyes of yours on Barnsey boy over there,” Sam teases. But then he falls silent and his gaze kinda goes distant for a moment. Slowly, Sam starts to grin, shaking his head. “Man, if the seventh grade Steve Rogers could see his life now... He’d probably pass out.” 

Sam’s totally and completely right. Even before him and Bucky were together, Bucky had no idea how tightly he’d been wrapped around Steve’s finger. They had been nothing but strangers yet, somehow, Steve’s world revolved around him ever since he spotted soft brown hair and beautiful eyes that sucked the breath right out of his lungs. From then on it had been Steve watching Bucky across the halls, or across the classroom as Sharon Carter and Matt Murdoch got to press up against him, got to touch him and make Bucky laugh. Then, in the shock of the century, Brock Rumlow had somehow gotten the privilege of tucking Bucky against his side and kissing those lips all while Steve saw just how much  _ more  _ Bucky deserved. Crowded against those that he hung out with, Bucky shined like the fucking sun in the sky. And the truth was simple: the world didn’t go around creating specimens like Bucky Barnes every day. So no matter how hard Steve tried to forget all about Bucky and move on, he was always tethered, waiting for a chance that he had thought would never come. 

And yet... 

Steve chuckles. “He wouldn’t believe it, that’s for certain. Sometimes I still can’t…” he confesses quietly. He knows that Sam understands. Steve lost track of how many times he dished out his thoughts to Sam in the beginning of his relationship with Bucky-- always over analyzing every little thing and fearing that it was too good to be true. 

The grin on Sam’s face is almost blinding. It’s the kind a proud father would give his son. “He loves you y’know,” Sam says. “I can tell by the looks he gives you, especially when you’re not looking. There’s not a thing he wouldn’t do for you.”

Steve does know because Bucky doesn’t let him forget. After all, how many times has Bucky planted himself in Steve's lap and kissed him silly, murmuring the words over and over; or those moments when they have dinners together, either at Gram’s house or at Bucky’s, and they share those looks when they think no one is looking and it feels like it’s just them that exist. Or even those moments when it  _ is  _ just them, when they’re tangled together in a naked heap and they’ve taken each other apart, leaving them both trembling and gasping as they release. Steve smiles just thinking about the night prior when he caged Bucky against his mattress and rocked into him, his motions slow and languid. Bucky liked it like that the best and Steve did too, if he were being honest, but when Gram was sleeping in the next room over, Steve couldn’t take the risk taking his hand off of Bucky’s mouth-- and  _ fuck  _ does he love that mouth. 

“And I him,” he says in return. He knows the look on his face has to be ridiculous but hey, that’s what Bucky Barnes just happens to turn him into. A ball of goddamn mush. 

“I know,” Sam smiles. “You two are the definition of lovesick fools. But I swear, Steve, if I ever see your naked ass again, I’m going to kill you.” 

Of course the  _ one  _ time he hadn’t locked the door Sam had busted right on in. Sam would have seen Bucky had Steve not flipped them over and covered Bucky’s body with his own. Sam may be his best friend, but even the thought of Sam getting an eyeful of Bucky’s nudity was enough to feel his jealousy roar, like an animal staking its claim and refusing to share.  _ But _ , that had been a one time deal ( _ hopefully _ ) and now, he’s that much more careful in making sure private moments between him and Bucky stay private. 

“Duly noted,” he says, dryly but still not managing to stop smiling. Because the look on Sam’s face had been fucking hilarious as hell. 

Steve takes another drink of his soda and leans into the chair, savoring the moment. It’s pretty nice out and the wind is just enough that they’ll probably have to wear jackets and sweats once the sun goes down. The forecast for the next few days is supposed to be clear and sunny, but perhaps it’ll be more windy than they assumed. Either way, they’re prepared so it’s not--

“ _ Stevvieee _ .” 

Steve turns his head toward Bucky, watching as his boyfriend unsuccessfully slots two of the poles together. He looks vaguely of a toddler inspecting a crayon for the first time, moving it this way and that, and trying to figure out what the hell he’s supposed to do with it. Bucky must sense Steve’s gaze, however, because he picks up his head and sends a look of ‘ _ help me _ ’ right at him. 

Throwing his head back, Steve takes one last drink of his soda before rising to his feet. He checks his watch. 10:54. “Four minutes more than I thought," he announces.

Sam grins. “You must be so proud.” 

“Damn right.”

* * *

“And now… you press it all together.” 

There’s a distinct crunch in the air as Carol puts her palm on her sandwich and squashes it, indeed, all together-- bread, ham, cheese, condiments, and lastly, a full handful of Cheetos ™ . It’s something that Steve has seen countless times but this isn’t about him. No, it’s about Carol teaching Bucky the  _ ‘proper’  _ way to make a sandwich because somehow, after ten months all together, making a sandwich has never came up. Until literally now. 

He’ll give Bucky credit because at least he’s sitting there, watching her and trying to be impressed, when in reality Steve can see that wild look in Bucky’s eyes that means he’s clearly thinking more along the lines of  _ what the fuck _ . 

Carol picks up the ingenious mess that she’s created and takes a large bite, making her cheeks bulge out. “Y’ get the softness and the crunch all in one bite,” she says around the food in her mouth. “It’s the only real way to eat it.” 

“It’s disgusting,” Nat says from across the table, sipping from her La Croix can and wrinkling her nose. 

“No, what’s disgusting is what you're drinking,” Steve corrects, because who the hell would drink an abomination such as sparkling water? The one time Steve had tried it, at Bucky’s behest, it had him coughing and spraying the liquid through his goddamn nose. Obviously he wouldn’t recommend it to anyone but there  _ is  _ something real nice about kissing Bucky once he’s swallowed down that berry flavored one that he likes so much. 

Nat’s gaze falls flat on him. She raises her can into the air. “Zero calories,” she says before nodding her head to the can of soda in Steve’s own, “Hundred and fifty calories. Who do you think the real winner is?” 

Him, without a doubt. But before he can retort, Steve’s attention gets redirected when Bucky is suddenly opening up the sandwich on his disposable plate-- which Bucky had insisted spending an entire twenty dollars extra for a pack of fifty just because they’re organic and biodegradable ( _ Think of the planet, Stevie! _ ). 

Steve watches in fascination as Bucky reaches into the bag of chips and pulls out a handful before dumping it on the sandwich he worked so hard to construct. Then, he takes a bite. Steve watches his face carefully, taking note of all the little expressions that happen, a vision that is pure magic and has him grinning like a fool. 

While Bucky chews, Steve runs his fingers down the two french braids on Bucky’s head that he did earlier. He’s getting pretty good at it, surprisingly. Before they take off for term Becca’s supposed to teach him how to do a Dutch braid although really, he’s barely gotten the hang of a decent-looking French so there’s no telling how that’ll go. 

He waits until Bucky swallows before asking, “Is it good?”

Bucky shrugs, making a face. “Mmm… seven out of ten.” 

Across the table, Carol smirks, looking like she’s just won a Nobel Prize.

* * *

By one o’clock, the six of them are gearing up for the hike. They each have a backpack filled up with extra supplies and Bucky’s rubbing in a layer of sunscreen on Steve’s face, dragging his fingers over the bridge of Steve’s nose and the high points of his cheeks. Bucky’s already done his own face and his legs, which Steve doesn’t have to worry about since he’s chosen to wear pants. They’re both wearing loose long sleeves though, so neither of them have to mind their shoulders and arms. 

The trail isn’t vigorous but Steve had to be assured  _ multiple  _ times by the Park Rangers that the trail was moderate in level. It’s supposed to have hills but no boulder fields or steep inclines that can have them twisting their ankles and leaving them stranded because they will  **not** be out in the wild once the sun starts to set. The trail is six miles total, so they should be back by five at the latest, even if they were to sit down and have a second lunch or dip their toes and feet in the river’s edge. Sure he’s down to have fun but he’s taking safety over anything else which is why he has repellent, strong ass pepper spray, and a heavy-duty taser all tucked away safely in his backpack.

“I can’t believe you let me buy these shoes,” Bucky mutters, looking down at the hiking boots covering his feet and stretching past his ankles. They’re brown and bulky, with bright yellow laces and yeah… they’re absolutely hideous. Not that he'd dare tell Bucky that.

“They’re for your safety,” Steve tells him instead, “And I think they look just fine.” He grabs onto the straps of Bucky’s backpack and tightens them, before reaching on the table and grabbing two of the devices. There’s six total, one for each of them, but it was something that both Winnie and Agatha had insisted upon even though they were three hundred dollars each. 

Steve secures one of the GPS satellite trackers onto Bucky’s belt loop, giving it a good tug to make sure it won’t accidentally be going anywhere. “Just in case,” he says, meeting Bucky’s gaze. 

“Mmhm,” Bucky hums. 

He has that look in his eyes like he totally wants to say  _ ‘I told you so’,  _ but he’s letting it slide. They both know that while Bucky is the worrier in their relationship, Steve is the one who takes matters into his own hands, trying to ease Bucky (and  _ himself _ ) as much as possible by taking any precaution he can. 

Steve steps forward and wraps his arms around Bucky’s shoulders, pulling Bucky’s frame into his chest. “Better safe than sorry,” he mutters into his boyfriend’s ear, right before he pulls back and kisses Bucky’s forehead. He tastes like sunscreen but it's the best goddamn sunscreen in Steve's mind. 

Arms wrap around Steve’s waist and he rests his cheek on the top of Bucky’s head, holding on tight while the others shuffle around them. 

“If my legs fall off, promise me you’ll carry me back?” Bucky mumbles, tilting his head back and peering up at him. Those eyes are open and trusting, and like every time Steve looks into them, they steal his breath away and fill him with so many emotions that he feels he may explode. He’d carry Bucky back even if his legs  _ were  _ attached and there wasn’t a single thing wrong with him. Heck, he does it already. 

Steve smiles and squeezes Bucky tighter right as he plants a loud, wet kiss against his cheek. He doesn't mind the sunscreen one bit. “You got it, pal.” 

* * *

When they get back, Bucky heads straight for their tent, grabs their bathroom supplies and a change of clothes, and waits not-so-patiently for Steve to do the same. Because as much as they had fun and enjoyed the outdoors, they also got a bit sweaty and a bit dirty and those two just don’t mix for Bucky  _ especially  _ if those two don’t coincide with either of them being naked. 

The sun has just begun to set so Steve makes sure to grab one of their heavy duty flashlights, while also fishing his own clothes from his bag. From there, the two of them clasp hands and make the walk to the bathrooms after the others wave them off. 

It’s a short walk down the hill from their campsite. It’s incredibly quiet out, almost eerily so, but the conversation flows between them even though Bucky is squished against his side and he twitches at every little sound. Every few seconds Steve himself resists the urge to shine the flashlight into the bushes and trees, keeping it trained on the paved trail instead. It takes less than five minutes to get to the campsite bathrooms and when they push the Men’s door open, Bucky is slow to enter. 

“They aren’t actually that bad, Buck,” he says as he all but drags Bucky inside, the door creaking shut behind them. Really, the bathrooms are along the standards of what he expected. A line of porcelain sinks and mirrors on one side, toilet stalls on the other, and separated shower compartments in the back that are concealed with tile walls and thin-looking curtains. The floor and all of the walls are tiled, too, and it certainly smells clean enough, even the faint scent of something nice-ish lingers in the air but it might just be the remnants of the shower from whoever was in here last. Either way, it could be a lot, lot,  _ lot  _ worse. He tells Bucky as much. 

Bucky nods. “Yeah… but I’m still not walking barefoot in here.”

And that’s where their flip flops and bath mats come in. It was odd enough that when they planned out their supply lists, the first thing Bucky had thrown out was sandals and a bathroom mat for them to use but now that they’re here, Steve’s not complaining. Like Bucky said, athlete’s feet is  _ hella  _ unattractive and even the thought of getting it, or anything remotely similar, has Steve itching in all of the wrong places. 

They somehow end up having the bathrooms all to themselves, yet, when they reach the showers, Bucky bypasses the idea of using two separate stalls when he sees that there’s more than enough room in one of them for the both of them to shower together. 

“You never know what can happen,” Bucky says slyly as he rolls out one of their matts, before rolling out the other and doubling their coverage space. 

“I’d literally be a step away.”

Bucky stands straight up and raises his brows at him, his lips curving playfully and giving Steve that look that means ‘baby, it’s time to play’. Steve can already feel the blood in his body shooting South, pooling in his gut and groin especially when Bucky reaches out and clasps his hands against Steve’s hips, rubbing. 

“Well, I think that it would be fun if you and I stayed together,” Bucky whispers, leaning close enough that his breath ghosts across Steve’s face. 

Bucky’s thumbs trace over the sharp jut of Steve’s hips bones and Steve’s brows raise up in challenge. Would his sweet, pampered, spoiled boyfriend actually get down and dirty in a public bathroom? Steve  _ highly  _ doubts it but then Bucky is smiling as if he can read Steve’s mind, accepting the challenge happily. 

In a flash, Bucky’s hands curve against Steve’s hips and he pulls Steve forward until their groins press together. Bucky knows how to press all of Steve’s buttons and all it takes is a few delicate rolls of his hips, grinding himself against Steve, that Steve’s mouth drops open. 

“It certainly  _ feels  _ like you want me in here with you,” Bucky teases, smiling and peering beneath his long dark lashes. The devious little shit shifts their fronts together again and this time, he lets his hands snake around Steve’s waist to squeeze a handful of his ass. He loses it completely once Bucky picks himself up to whisper into his ear, “Now strip for me, Stevie.” 

“Only if you join me,” Steve quips back but his shirt is already getting chucked to the side and he’s unbuttoning his pants, shoving them away along with his briefs. In his haste, he manages to snag Bucky’s shirt over his head and it’s quick to join the pile thrown in the furthest corner. 

Bucky doesn’t miss a beat. He lowers himself back down onto his feet, places a kiss against the hollow of Steve’s sternum, but he keeps going. Bucky continues to slide, lower and lower, kissing every inch of skin that he can as he sinks down onto his knees. 

Steve watches him carefully position himself onto the bathmat but then everything gets a little fuzzy once Bucky’s lips wrap around his cock. 

It gets steamy and shockingly enough, it has nothing to do with hot water. 

***

Half an hour later, when they’re clean, relaxed, and fully dressed in their night clothes, they’re walking back up the trail and heading straight for their campsite. Bucky is once again buried under his arm and halfway up, they pass by Clint and Sam. 

“Figured y’all had enough time to do y’alls thing,” Sam grins. “Got the campfire going, too.”

Bucky ducks his head down into Steve’s chest, smiling shyly, as Steve meets them head on. “Thanks guys. Water pressure is great, by the way.” 

Predictably, Clint and Sam only chuckle. 

* * *

Steve’s never been one for junk food, but watching melted chocolate and marshmallow drip down Bucky’s finger, has him suddenly rethinking his goddamn life choices. He had a bite of one earlier but he’d passed it off to Bucky soon after and since then, Bucky’s eaten two and shows no sign of stopping. 

And with no surprise, neither is Carol or Clint. 

“I’m just saying,” Sam mueses from across the fire, “I can easily see myself buying a cabin in the woods and never stepping foot in a city again.” 

Next to him, Carol openly rolls her eyes. “Lies, lies, lies,” she chuckles. “Do I need to remind you that when we toured F.I.T, he was more excited than I was. You should have all seen how happy he was to flag down a taxi.” 

Sam can shake his head all he wants but Steve has a hunch that Carol is speaking straight facts. It doesn’t help that Steve has first hand experience of watching Sam get all bright eyed when they traveled to Richmond for a playoff game last year. 

“Okay, so I was a bit excited,” Sam admits. “But it’s so goddamn peaceful out here. You can’t get that in Hampton, and you sure as hell can’t get it in any city. So I stick by my words.” 

No one brings up the fact that Carol will be living in a city in less than a month and no one asks if Sam will be visiting her. The truth is that Sam has admitted to Steve a few times now that they’ve been in a rough patch since graduation, as Carol’s departure for NY gets closer, hovering over Sam like a storm cloud. And really, everyone can sense the shift. On the darker nights, when Sam’s has had one too many beers, he’s confessed that he just doesn’t feel it anymore, the magic and excitement that they used to have. He’s told Steve more than once that Carol’s admitted the same thing but instead of causing a rift in the middle of their last summer altogether, the two have decided to stick to the end, no matter how many times both parties have been told how unhealthy that is. They all know and can see the tension between Carol and Sam but no one brings it up, choosing to eat s’mores or stare aimlessly at the fire, letting it drown out their stress. 

The obstacle, however, is that while Sam is going through problems of his own, Steve has never been happier in his life. With Bucky curled into his side, nibbling at the dessert in his hands, Steve feels like he’s the happiest man on the goddamn planet. Their future is something that the both of them are excited for, something that they can’t wait to experience  _ together _ . 

“Well I second that,” Clint chimes in. “Maybe then I can get good at archery.” 

Beside Steve, Bucky laughs. “You can literally do that now.”

“Eh,” Clint shrugs. “I want more of the whole Robin Hood thing.” 

“And he’s scared he might accidentally kill the neighbor’s cat,” Nat says, making everyone laugh. 

They sit out for as long as they can, until their eyes start to burn from the fire and they’re all seconds away from passing out in their chairs. Buck’s already curled up and he’s buried in Steve’s jacket, his forehead pressing sleepily against Steve’s bicep. Clint’s been passed out for a good few minutes now, head tipped back and snoring gently. Nat looks at him like the smitten lover she is. 

Sam is the one who ends up pushing himself out of his chair first. He lets out a loud yawn and stretches his arms above his head. “Alright guys, I’m ready to crash. If I hear anyone of you getting it on, I swear I’m dumping a bucket of water on you in the morning.” 

When Steve looks toward Bucky, Bucky’s already looking back at him, barely hiding his grin behind his hand. But there’s that  _ look  _ again and Steve is pushing himself up before reaching down and helping Bucky up as well. 

They scatter but when Steve looks back over his shoulder, Nat’s waving them off saying she and Carol are gonna have girl talk. Whatever that means. 

* * *

Bucky’s fingers are locked tight in Steve’s hair, holding him in place even though he’d rather die than be anywhere other than in between Bucky’s legs. Their mouths are crushed together and their tongues glide lazily across one another’s in the sinful dance that they’ve become accustomed to yet never fails to ignite their blood. They’ve been like this for a while now, just kissing lazily and smiling in the low light of the tent and not rushing to do anything other than feel the press of their bodies together. 

All it takes is for Steve to run his palm down the inside of Bucky’s leg and then it isn’t so PG-13 anymore. Their kissing turns more frantic, deeper and more desperate, and their hands start pulling at flesh in a blur. Neither of them stop until they’re blue in the face. They pull apart but their foreheads rest against one another and they breath into each other’s mouth, hot and heavy. 

“Stevie,” Bucky pants, curling his fingers against Steve’s skull. “Baby, please.” 

He loves it when Bucky gets like this; needy to the point where he begs for it (even though begging is the last thing he’d ever need to do with Steve). His arms and legs are quaking as he moves to sit up on his knees. A precious whine escapes Bucky’s throat at the loss but Steve’s quick to find Bucky’s hips and pull down the thin leggings and briefs that he has underneath. Their shirts had been chucked away before they even made it into their joint sleeping bag but the limited space has Steve shimmering them both free of their remaining clothes as fast as he can. As soon as they’re both bare, Steve’s leaning back over Bucky, his hands propping himself up on either side of the slim body beneath him. He latches onto the skin of Bucky’s neck, sucking and licking, before he makes his way down. 

He  _ loves  _ Bucky’s skin. How mesmerizingly soft it always is-- no doubt due to those ridiculous, overpriced moisturizers that he has stacks of in his bathroom. But there’s just something real sweet about rubbing up against silky soft skin, watching as goosebumps erupt across the milky flesh that he’s long since memorized. It always feels like magic when Bucky’s breath hitches, when Steve can feel the way his lithe body jolts just slightly. 

“I got you, baby,” he whispers before he blindly digs in the bag of essentials he positioned right beside the air mattress just for a moment like this. The snap of the lube bottle opening and closing is barely heard over the soft sounds of Bucky’s low moans in his ear and it’s hard enough to think with Bucky slowly rolling into him, but somehow Steve manages to slick up his fingers after pulling out a condom package. Not the sounds spilling past his lips either. 

Instantly he’s pressing the pad of his index finger against Bucky’s rim, rubbing him gently, warming him up, before he pushes in slowly. He’s always so careful with Bucky like this, always watching every little expression that passes over his face and listening to how his breathing stutters at the intrusion. Bucky’s eyes are closed but nothing about him is saying that he isn’t enjoying every last second of this. 

That is, until Steve’s tearing the condom wrapper open with his teeth. 

Bucky’s eyes flutter open and he blinks once, twice, three times like he’s trying to understand what he’s looking at. Steve freezes as Bucky moves up onto his elbows. 

“Is that a condom?”

Steve looks down at the tiny package in his hand as if maybe somehow it transformed into something weird as hell. Because then that would explain the look on Bucky’s face. “Uh... yes?” 

Bucky’s raw lips part and before Steve knows it, he’s reaching up and plucking it right from Steve’s fingers. His eyes linger on it for a brief second until he’s looking back up at Steve, disbelief written all over his beautiful face. And then, he laughs. 

Steve is so fucking confused. 

“You really brought condoms?” 

“Yes?” Steve repeats. He feels like a fish floundering out of water. 

Bucky only shakes his head and when his mouth pops back open, it takes every ounce of restraint to keep Steve from licking into it. “We are  _ not  _ using a condom.” 

He furrows his brows. Together they may have never used one before, but he’d packed everything that he thought they may need, condoms included. It was always better to be prepared than not. He certainly hadn’t expected this type of reaction though. But with Bucky, Steve’s learned to expect the unexpected. “What? Why not? It’ll make cleanup easier. It’s not like we can change the sheets if we make a mess.” 

“Because then it’d be like cheating.” 

This time, it’s Steve’s turn to laugh. The movement makes his finger shift inside of Bucky and he watches in awe as the pleasure flashes across Bucky’s face. Bucky’s breathing stutters beautifully and Steve takes liberty of pushing another finger in, feeling the stretch of Bucky’s hold squeeze against his digits. “Mind telling me how you came to that deduction?” 

“B-Because it could be any-anyone’s dick,” Bucky pants.

Steve smiles as he leans back over Bucky’s body, gently pushing his boyfriend back onto his back. “It’s clearly mine though.” 

“ _ Steeve _ .” For an added effect, Bucky sticks his bottom lip out. 

Little does he know that Steve has already tossed it aside. 

He reaches down and squeezes his bare dick eagerly before he’s pressing himself flush against the space between Bucky’s spread open legs. He takes out his fingers only to slick up his dick and then he’s grasping one of Bucky’s hips while guiding his cock to the spot he loves the absolute most. 

Bucky tenses, hissing through his teeth as Steve pushes in but it lasts only a second. His body opens up so beautifully, and when Steve bottoms out, he groans at the feeling. So tight, so much warmth. Fucking heaven. 

Bucky’s hands grab onto him, pulling him even closer, and Steve’s more than happy to mold their chests together. He finds Bucky’s lips just as he lazily drags back his hips, only to slowly rut forward once again. 

“ _ Fuck _ ,” he breathes against Bucky’s neck. The answering noise Bucky makes in his throat is erotic as fuck and it only spurs him on even further. He wraps his arms tight around Bucky’s body, drags his nose along Bucky’s cheek, and puts himself eyelevel with his boyfriend. “Open your eyes, baby. Let me see you.” 

Eyelids fluttering, Bucky does his best. Their gazes lock and Steve starts rolling his hips nice and slow, enjoying how the pleasure absolutely devastates Bucky. Bucky’s lips are parted and with every lazy thrust that Steve gives him, Bucky’s body is pulsing with the movements. 

They ride the rhythm together for a while, in no rush to hurry, only to bask in the feelings they create for each other. Somehow, their eyes never stray from each other’s for long. And while they usually fuck numerous times throughout the week, sometimes two or three times a day, it never gets old. There are days when they do it rough and hard, just chasing after their releases, but there are other times when everything is slowed down and it’s just the two of them and the world just melts away. They’ve made love so many times, so many beautiful and cherishable times, and now it is no different. 

Bucky reaches his hands up and places them on both sides of Steve’s jaw, sliding them upward until he’s gently holding Steve’s face between his palms. Their faces are close, their foreheads touching. Every breath they take fans over the other. They’re one and Steve would never want it any other way. 

“God, I love you,” Bucky whispers against him. 

Steve hits a spot deep inside of Bucky that has him shuddering in Steve’s arms. Steve smiles as the effect ripples across Bucky’s face. “Love you, too, Buck. To the end of the line, baby.” 

He hits that spot again and again and again, and as he recognizes the tell-tale sign of Bucky’s orgasm approaching, Steve clamps his hand down across Bucky’s mouth just as his head tips back and he’s crying against Steve’s palm. When it’s his turn, mere seconds later, he buries himself in Bucky’s neck and does his damn well best to stay as quiet as possible. 

Besides, it’s not like he wants Sam barging in here and causing hell. Because that’s definitely what Sam (and probably the others) would do. 

* * *

In the morning, he awakens to the sound of birds. Birds that are far too close and way too fucking loud. 

He crumples his face as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes and when he opens them, it takes a few seconds to get used to the light until he’s able to take a quick scan around the tent. 

Bucky crashed out in his arms, check. 

Tent up and sealed, check. 

There’s probably a whole list of things that he should double check but they all fall away to the back of his mind after he realizes that the only important thing is still up and standing-- or, in Bucky’s case, alive-- so he takes a deep breath, letting himself wake up fully.

It’s routine by now that as soon as Steve stirs awake, Bucky’s usually doing the same a few minutes after. Unless it’s before eight in the morning or Bucky had one too many drinks the night before or they stayed up extra late fucking like untamed animals. 

He doesn’t know what time it is and just as he reaches over to snag his phone, Bucky makes a little mewl that Steve trains onto like a dog to a whistle. He grins as he inches close enough to pepper kisses all across Bucky’s face, watching in delight as Bucky’s face scrunches up. 

“Goodmorning, sweetheart,” he coos extra sweetly because Bucky is never a morning person unless there’s at least a good gallon of coffee pumped into his veins beforehand. 

Bucky dips his chin down and buries himself deeper into Steve’s chest, getting beneath the cover of their sleeping bag before trying to pick it up over Steve’s head too. “Stevie,” he groans as he wraps his arms securely around Steve’s waist, “It’s too early.” 

Steve plants a quick kiss against Bucky’s forehead. “I know.” 

“So let’s sleep.” 

“If you wanna stay asleep, by all means. I’ll just keep myself busy.” He shifts to lay on his side and without his body’s support, Bucky’s rolling over onto his front. Bucky is blissfully at Steve’s complete mercy and without hesitating, Steve’s carefully maneuvering himself to straddle the back of Bucky’s thighs. His movement throws the top cover of the sleeping bag off of them but that’s okay since Steve plans on keeping Bucky warm in other ways. More important and more fun ways. 

He leans forward and kisses the top of Bucky’s spine before nibbling his way down over every notch. He lets one of his hands get tangled in Bucky’s sleep-tousled hair as the other dips beneath the elastic of Bucky’s underwear, slowly pulling the soft fabric down until the top of Bucky’s ass gets exposed. He groans against Bucky’s neck as his fingertips dig into the plump flesh, squeezing possessively. 

“Let me love on you, baby,” he whispers. He presses an open mouthed kiss to the top of Bucky’s ass, before tilting his head and finding Bucky’s eyes. Bucky’s head is still buried in the pillow but his eyes are slitted open enough to where he’s able to watch Steve. There’s a sleep-soft smile gracing his lips and Steve reaches up to caress it with his fingertips. 

Gently, Bucky kisses against him. “Always,” he whispers back. 

Steve smiles too, hearing the words. He slides Bucky’s underwear completely down before he’s leaning in and making Bucky turn wide awake. 

* * *

An hour later, Steve’s fully clothed and he’s carrying extra firewood to the pit to be used for later. It’s barely past nine and while they’re all waiting for Sam’s signature breakfast tacos to be ready, they’re all teetering around in the peacefulness of the morning. Carol’s doing a mini yoga session off to the side. Clint’s… trying to call feed the squirrels. And as for the other two, he doesn’t have to look hard because he can feel the heavy weight of  _ someone’s  _ gaze trailing his every move. 

Bucky’s sitting criss-crossed in his lawn chair and he’s idly sipping from a coffee mug. Nat is standing behind him braiding his hair into a pattern that puts Steve’s subpar skills to shame. They’re having a hushed conversation that Steve can’t hear, but from the sly look on Nat’s face and the blush that decorates Bucky’s cheeks, it has to be something juicy. 

And more than likely all about him because there’s only ever been a few things (cough, cough--  _ him _ ) that’s been able to make Bucky turn red like that. 

He drops the wood into place and as he straightens up, he looks toward them expectantly, raising a curious brow. “Yes?” he asks, plopping his hands on his hips. 

He feels a thrill shoot through him when Bucky gives him a heated once over, letting his eyes linger on Steve’s exposed arms (if Steve flexes just a little bit, no one’s gotta know). 

Bucky shrugs but he has that  _ look  _ in his eyes. “Nothing. We were just wondering if you think you could rip a log in half,” he says, before taking another sip of his coffee to hide the smile on his lips. Behind him, Nat snorts. 

"I'm human, not a super soldier." 

“Mmmm…,” Bucky drags the word out nice and long. “Considering that time in the Jeep… it’s debatable." 

He can feel the color rush to his cheeks and his mouth drops ready to cover for himself, but thankfully he’s saved by Sam not a second later. Sam, who has a full tray covered with what seems to be at least a dozen breakfast tacos. “Food’s ready!” he’s shouting loud enough to have the birds scattering from the trees. “Bon appetit, bitches.” 

* * *

Across the table, Bucky’s pulling two cards from the deck in his hands and adding them to the pile resting in the middle of them all. “Two kings,” he declares. 

“Bullshit.” Steve deadpans. Bucky’s a good liar but Steve knows him probably better than he knows himself. He doesn’t even have to look up from his own deck. He can hear the lie through the slight lilt in Bucky’s voice despite how hard Bucky tries to cover it up. 

Instantly Clint is slapping his down over the cards Bucky discarded and yep, sure enough, his cards are nowhere near what he said. They’re not even the same numbers. 

Bucky throws his head back as they all snicker. As his punishment, Bucky’s forced to add all of the cards from the discard pile into his deck. He goes from holding about seven cards, all the way to almost two dozen. “So not fair…” he grumbles. 

Steve smirks. “Don’t hate the players, babe. Hate the game.” Bucky gives him a pointed look before sticking out his tongue. 

Next is Nat’s turn and when she lays down three aces, no one has the nerves to call her bluff. Which is probably why she wins four times in a row. 

* * *

In the long run, an extended weekend in the woods goes by in the blink of an eye. Faster than that, even. 

They have a barbecue and stuff themselves full of hamburgers and chicken. They swim on the bank of the river and play beer pong (or Whiteclaw pong in Nat, Bucky, and Carol’s case). They play truth or dare around the fire that ends up with Sam skinny dipping and Nat chugging a beer upside down while doing a handstand. In their second afternoon, him and Sam try to teach Bucky the proper way to throw a football. Five minutes later, Bucky almost breaks his arm throwing said football. They manage to play a game of three on three, and Steve only has near heart attacks every time Bucky goes down. Clint tries to beckon a squirrel he nicknamed Doreen into his and Nat’s tent, adamant that it’s become his new pet (which Nat swears up and down isn’t going to happen and naturally forbids him from bringing any creatures of any kind into their tent). Then there’s Carol. Even if none of them say it, this entire trip was just a saying goodbye to her as she embarks on her next journey all the way up in New York. Which is why they all linger around the table during their meals, stealing those extra sacred moments; or why they all stick around the fire hours after their bodies beg for them to go to sleep, because they don’t want this time to end anytime soon and they just want to keep sitting there and telling stories and laughing and not thinking about the weeks to come. 

It’s hard knowing they’re on borrowed time. 

It’s even harder when Carol breaks down on their last night and cries. 

“I’m really gonna miss you guys,” she says through the tears. They’re all around the fire and they’ve been drinking a bit, but none of them are buzzed when she starts. “So fucking much. You guys have been my best friends since middle school. And Bucky-- dude, it’s so not fair that you’ve only been in my life for a year. You’re my brother from another mother. Or like, my separated twin who was sent to live with the rich folks. You fucking rock and Steve’s been so gone on you for, like, ever, and now you are both so happy and I just-- god, everything is so good and I can’t believe I’m leaving.” 

Bucky’s been tucked into Steve’s side throughout the whole night and while he once had a rock hard exterior for keeping his walls up to prevent his emotions from leaking out, now he buries himself into Steve, sniffling. The arm that Steve has wrapped around Bucky tightens, and Bucky grabs his hand, pulling it between his and bringing it up to his mouth. Bucky’s lips ghost across Steve’s knuckles and when Steve looks down at him, it’s no shock to see how Bucky’s eyes are glistening with unshed tears. Even if Bucky has gotten a better grasp of showing his true emotions, and even if the people around him are some of his closest friends, Bucky absolutely hates crying in front of people that don’t routinely see him naked and as vulnerable as possible (aka Steve). So in a time like this, all Steve can do is hold him close and kiss him against his temple, letting Bucky use him as a barrier. 

They make their rounds promising to keep in touch and that while they will each miss her, she’s on her way to bigger and better things. New York seems like another planet at this point and somehow it feels like soon they’ll be watching Carol board a rocket and zoom past the stratosphere, leaving them in the dust. But they’ll be okay-- more than okay-- and while Carol is off on her own, they’ll still have this. Just minus the one. 

They sit out for as long as they can that night but when the clock is reading close to four in the morning, they all decide they’re as emotionally wrecked for day that is humanly possible. 

Their footsteps are heavy and dragging as they each head to their tents for their final night. Him and Bucky are both exhausted, physically and mentally, and besides leaning on each other and holding one another tight, there’s nothing else they do. They don’t even strip. They stay fully clothed and lower themselves down in the little nest they’ve made for themselves this weekend. Bucky’s unnaturally quiet for a long while but when they get settled, he’s quick to burrow himself in Steve’s chest, his cheek flat against Steve’s pec. 

“Everything is going to fine, Buck. It’s scary but… but we’ll be okay. We’ll get to see her on the holidays, and when she comes back during the summers. Alot’s gonna change but it’ll all work out in the end.” 

“How?” Bucky mutters, picking his head up to look at him. “How is it that I’ve said goodbye to some people I’ve known my entire life and I didn’t feel an inch of what I’m feeling right now?” 

Steve knows Bucky’s talking about Carter who just moved across the country to California to accompany Coulson at UCLA. Then there was Stark’s going away bash for MIT that had not only half the police department show up, but three full firetrucks as well. And Bucky’s right. He hadn’t been remotely close to acting or feeling as he is now. 

Steve sighs, letting his fingers make their way into Bucky’s hair, raking through softly. “Sometimes you just meet people in your life that are different. Sometimes it hurts, sometimes it doesn’t.” 

“It’s not fair.” Bucky makes a noise in the back of his throat. 

“I know, baby. But sometimes that’s just how life works. You know that.” Bucky does know that, but apart from this past year, change hasn’t really been on the top of his experience list. He’s used to comfort, like any other normal human being. 

They both fall quiet as their thoughts consume them. Steve’s staring up at the roof of their tent, pondering what it would be like if Bucky was the one moving away, when something dawns on him. “Hey, doesn’t the roof covering come off of this thing?” 

Bucky tilts his head, following Steve’s gaze. “I think so?” 

“Want me to take it off?” 

“Sure. But if it rains, you’re entirely in charge of drying everything out.” 

Steve snorts. “Will do.” He manages to untangle himself from Bucky and quickly undoes all of the ties and zippers that keep the top part of the roof over them. When the flap is gone, all that’s left is netted mesh that gives them a clear view of the night sky. Steve finds himself stuck when he looks up. 

“Oh, Stevie, it’s so pretty,” Bucky coos from beneath him. 

And it truly is. Because all the way out here, the stars fucking  _ shine _ . Like, flashes and all. It’s goddamn breathtaking. So hypnotic too. 

“Baby… c’mere.” 

When Steve snaps out of his daze, he turns around to look at him. Bucky’s laying on his back in the bundle of their sleeping bag, his mouth open and eyes abright and his hand is outstretched, waiting for Steve to rejoin him. 

Which Steve happily does. 

They get comfortable and take turns pointing at various clusters in the sky. They don’t see anything beyond the ordinary but it still is pretty captivating that they can entertain themselves with the night sky until their eyelids eventually fall shut almost half an hour later. That night they happen to fall asleep directly underneath the stars, which is a first in their books. 

It’s a good first. 

And more than likely not the last. 

* * *

Come morning, all of their belongings are packed back up in their various vehicles and the tents have been torn down as if they were never there to begin with. 

Before they take off though, Bucky sets up a tripod and they take a handful of pictures all together, all smiling and grinning like none of them have any cares in the world. But soon comes the time when their passes are up and they’re needing to make their way out of the park. 

“I say this should become an annual thing,” Clint says as the last of the bags is being tucked away in Sam’s Ford. “Every summer. We come out here and get in touch with our primal roots.” 

Nat snorts.

“Yes!” Carol’s jumping up and down. “Yes, yes, yes! Annual camping trip. No buts. Every year.” When everyone announces they’re down for it, she’s punching her fist into the air. “I think this is the part where we all make a blood oath but I guess we can just go based on words. If someone breaks their promise…  _ very  _ bad things will happen.” 

And well, when Carol talks such a big game like that, no one is going to be trying to back out any time soon. So it becomes official. When they reach the Ranger’s office, they’re already reserving their spots. 

But as much fun as the whole trip was, it does feel nice to hit civilization again. The others decide to head on home while him and Bucky take a detour into a nearby small town that consists of literally one downtown square that has American flags on every surface imaginable. He pulls up to a cute little artisan bakery that Bucky begs for him to stop at, and once they park, Bucky’s cell phone comes back to life. 

Bucky’s eyes go wide like he forgot about the thing and when he picks it up and reads whatever flashes across his screen, he’s grinning. “Mattie texted asking if we’re still alive.” 

Steve chuckles. “He still in Italy?” 

“Yup. Doesn’t come back until next week.” Bucky snorts as his phone pings again. “He said ‘Damn’. With a crying emoji. Apparently he wanted to inherit my clothes.” 

“It’s not like you’ll miss them. You never even wear your clothes,” he says, sending a pointed look to the t-shirt on Bucky’s body that reads  _ Rogers  _ across the back. 

“I have no clue what you’re talking about.” 

“Mhm,” Steve hums. “Sure you don’t. Now get your fine ass out of the car so we can get some breakfast.” 

Bucky captures his gaze. “Steven. You know what it does to me when you go all Alpha on me. Do you want breakfast or do you want me to jump in the backseat?” he retorts, barely concealing his smile. 

Steve regards him carefully. It’s tempting, but there’s no way in hell he’s going to give anyone a free show because if they get it on now, the morning commute is going to see every second of them. His hand is on the handle of the door, opening it. “Babe. Get out of the car.” 

In a flash, Bucky is leaning across the console and planting a quick kiss against Steve’s lips. “Sir, yes sir.” When Bucky’s pulling back, his gaze is lingering on Steve’s mouth. “But later, right?” 

Amused, Steve smiles. “Yeah, Buck.” He goes to get out of the car but Bucky is suddenly reaching out and stopping him. 

“Wait,” he’s saying, pulling up his phone. “Let’s take a pic and send it to my mom to prove we’re both alive and well. She just texted me.” Steve leans back in and they press up close as Bucky holds up his phone and snaps a quick selfie of them both. He sends it off before pulling it up and letting them both inspect it. “God, we’re so hot,” Bucky’s whispering quietly as if he’s talking to himself and Steve watches as Bucky taps a few buttons before setting the pic as his new lockscreen wallpaper. 

“Send it to me, too, please.” 

“Already done,” Bucky’s saying before dropping his phone down onto his lap. “Now let’s go eat.”

“Sir, yes sir,” he mimics. They both climb out the car and when Steve rounds the front of the Jeep, they’re quickly clasping hands and taking the few steps to the bakery’s entrance. 

He holds the door open, a bell chimes, and together they make their way inside. 

**Author's Note:**

> Like it? Hate it? Let me know in the comments pretty please!
> 
> (Part 3: Steve, Bucky, & the Gang all move into their house and start school together)


End file.
